Revenge
by Ethiercn
Summary: Sequel to Fallout. How will Firestar and Justice deal with his stalker?
1. Chapter 1

1Title: Revenge

Author: Ethiercn

Rating: T

Disclaimer: I do not own any recognizable characters (if I did things would be different). I am not making any profit.

Author's Note: This story takes place right after Fallout. While it is not necessary to read Fallout to follow the story below, it will help (especially for later parts of this story). The story that Angel tells is from a New Warriors annual, and the polite word for what she whispers is castrate. This is NOT Marvel canon. Let me know if Vance is actually likable. Apologies for getting NY teacher certification incorrect, as I undoubtedly did.

Vance glanced at his watch, only two minutes later than the last time that he looked. He had a date with Angel tonight, their fifth since they had gotten back together. He wasn't sure how much she trusted him yet, but in his more secure moments he was sure that she liked what he called the new Vance. At the end of the semester, he would suggest a weekend getaway, perhaps to a B&B up state. Thanks to Nita's ingenuity, the Warriors were actually getting a paycheck, not a large one, but enough. And the team, by and large, was getting closer. He felt happier than he had been in a long time.

Focus, he thought, trying to turn his attention back to the book he needed to read for a paper. The inflated prose didn't help. He had thought working at the library would help, but it didn't. This was what he got for deciding to double major in science and education. Despite the extra work he had put in during his time in the Vault, he still had to do another year to make up the education credits for his certification. After working for Child Watch, he had discovered that he actually liked working with children. He wasn't sure who would hire someone with a criminal record, but the people at Child Watch had been encouraging.

Focus, he remained himself. Perhaps if he switched books and read another for a little bit, he would be able to go back to this one. He reached into his backpack. Along with the book out came an envelope with his name on it.

He stared at it. Where had it come from? He glanced around the library. There were only a few students on the other side of the room. With some hesitation, he opened it carefully and shook the folded piece of paper out. He used a pen to unfold the paper so he could read the typewritten note. _"You do not know me, but I care for you. Your girlfriend doesn't. If you don't believe me, ask her what happened the weekend you went on the Child Watch trip"_. There was no signature.

He frowned at the note. A stalker? No, it must be some kind of sick joke. He thought back to that weekend. It had been shortly before Angel had left and when he was being a complete ass to her. When he had returned from the trip, he thought, she had been quiet, and Rich had been attentive to her. It had been why, in part, Vance had lost it when he had seen her leaving Rich's apartment. Had something happened between them? He shook his head; he didn't think so. But there was a small worm of doubt.

He shoved it aside. The better question was who had sent the note and how he or she had known about Angel. His secret identify was somewhat compromised with the trial. And as Siobhan had said, if you knew the secret identity of one, you could figure out the others. He had spent time after his release at Angel's home.

He slid the letter, envelope, and books into his backpack. It was still early, but he wouldn't be able to study. He could meet Angel after her class, and they could figure out this whole thing. If they didn't, they would take it to the rest of the Warriors.

It was, after all, most likely nothing.

He hoped.

Vance waited outside Angel's art history class. He perked up when the students started to leave the classroom. His eyes scanned the rather small crowd, looking for Angel. Apparently not many students took a 300 level art history course. He saw her the minute she left the room. She was talking animatedly with one of her classmates, James, if he remembered the name correctly.

She saw him and with one last word to James, who nodded at him, came over. "Hey," she said as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in for a kiss. "I thought I was supposed to meet you at the library," she finished when he let her breathe again.

"I finished early and thought I would meet you."

She frowned at him. He had that worried expression on his face, the one that he had worn so often after the Vault. "What's wrong?"

He looked around; they couldn't talk here. The answer came out before he thought, "Later."

Her whole face closed itself off from him. She took a small step back. "Oh," was all she said. So we're back to that, she thought.

Vance realized that he would to ban that word from his vocualbary; he had said it far too much to her before. He pulled her back to him, "I meant, not here. Too many people. Can we go back to your place and have dinner there instead of going out?"

"As long as you don't mind pasta," her blue green eyes scanned his face. "The others?"

"Are fine. I've got my bike. C'mon."

The water for the penne was on the stove and the doctored sauce was simmering away. The loaf of bread that they had picked up from the local farmer's market was in the stove warming up. Vance and Angel sat at the small table. "Someone," Vance said, pulling the note from his back pack and sliding it over to Angel, "Put this in my backpack today."  
The color drained from her face as she read the note. "Angel," he said gently, "Did something happen that weekend?" He couldn't get a good look at her face for she was staring down at her hands. She nodded slowly.

He moved his chair closer, took her hands into his; they had gone cold. He tried to peer at her face. She was frightened to tell him that much was clear. "What? Was something to do with Rich?" If something had happened between her and Rich, Vance thought, it was his own fault for pushing her away.

She looked at him, "No, though Rich knows what happened."

He felt a little relief poke though the worry. "So what happened?" he asked still keeping his voice gentle.

"Jupiter and I went to a frat party. This guy," her voice tightened and the word was all but spat out, "she liked was throwing it. When we got there, she went off with him."

"Did anything happen to you?" he asked. If someone had slipped something into her drink, he thought, his blue eyes watching her carefully.

She smiled wanly and shook her head. "I thought the party was horrible. But Jupes," she paused. The anger from that night was still raw. "The guy raped her. I didn't find out until after we left."

Vance exhaled slowly. "Did she go to the police?"

Angel shook her head, "She was drunk, and . . . "

"And what?" he asked.

"I asked her if she wanted," Angel's voice had gotten smaller. "If she wanted me to take care of it, and she said yes. So . . ."

"You confronted him," Vance interjected, his eyes not leaving her face.

"Yes. I waited until after he left. And . . . "she stopped trying to figure out how to describe what she had almost done next. Uncertain as to what his reaction was going to be, she feared that he would either lecture her or storm out, raging about how she had let him down.

"Put the fear of god into him," Vance supplied.

She nodded and looked back down at her hands. "Yes, but I almost . . . I wanted to . . ."

She whispered something that he couldn't quite catch.

He almost asked what, but then he understood. "But you didn't."

She nodded, "Only at the last moment, though."

He pulled into her his arms, seating her on his lap. She put her arms around his neck and buried her face into his shoulder. She wasn't crying, but she clung to him, surprised at his open acceptance.

"Jupiter's getting counseling?" he asked, rubbing her back gently.

She nodded.

"Controlling our powers is tough sometimes, huh?"

She moved so she could study his face, "The only other times I felt like that was with Frost and when I found my father bleeding out."

The hiss from the stove as the water started to boil over startled them. Reluctantly, Angel got up and turned down the heat a little before adding the penne.

"Do you think anyone saw you?" Vance asked as he took out the plates and the silverware.

"No. I made sure he was alone," she replied, uncovering the sauce and stirring it.

He frowned, "Then whoever sent the note must have known, at the very least, that you went out."

"Or when I went back to the Crash pad," Angel replied. "That's where I went afterwards. Rich arrived later."

Vance nodded, "I can understand how the person knows about me. But you, to follow you or to monitor the Warriors that way, that long …" He couldn't finish. He pulled out his phone and called Thrash. By the time he had finished calling the Warrior's erstwhile sometime leader, Angel was draining the penne. "Thrash and Nita are going to call the others. But neither of them have seen anything," Vance said. "And I'm staying here tonight, just to be on the safe side."

"What?" Angel said, looking up as she put the penne on the table. "I can take care of myself."

"Whoever it is, knows who you are. Knows we're back together. I'm not leaving you alone."

"It's you the person cares about," she replied fishing the bread out of the oven. "Unless it's some sick joke. You're more at risk, especially if you spend the night."

He shook his head as he moved the sauce to the table. "Whoever this is, doesn't like you. If I act like we had a fight, then whoever it is could think attacking you is a good idea. Anything we do could be the wrong thing to do. I'll feel better knowing you're okay. I'm staying."

Not entirely displeased, she handed him his glass. "The note is wrong," she said quietly.

"I know," he replied, kissing her.

"The penne's going to get cold," Angel softly

"Not really a problem is it?" he kissed her again.


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Revenge Part 2

Rating: T

Author: Ethiercn

Disclaimer: I don't own any recognizable characters. MacDonald's power is borrowed from a similar power in the series _The Sun Sword_ by Michelle West.

Author's Note: Takes place the morning after Part 1. Thanks to Myth for letting me borrow a plot point from her story "Web of Fire".

**Crash Pad**

"Super-Tights has a stalker? That's . .. "Nova couldn't finish, he was laughing too hard.

Nita smacked him up side the head. "It's not funny," she claimed, but her lips quirked.

Speedball looked nervous, not his usually jovial self. "Nita's right. What if she follows the rest of us?"

"C'mon Toothpick, it's sorta funny," Nova responded with a smirk. "You're just jealous."

Speedball smiled, "Well, if a girl was going to stalk someone . . .". He picked up a bagel from the tray in front of him.

"Despite the humor of the situation," Silhouette said quietly from her seat on the couch, "What are we going to do about it?"

"I've tightened security around the Crash Pad," Thrash replied. "And I'm pulling the tapes from the last year. It will take awhile to go though them." He called up various screens on the computer.

"It just might be a prank," Rage suggested as he poured milk onto his cereal.

Justice and Firestar exchanged a glance. "It's possible," Justice conceded. "But I think we should be careful. Double check when we come here. Make sure we're not being followed."

"We could have a secret knock," Speedball suggested.

"No knock," Thrash vetoed. "Everyone just be careful. Vance, Nita, can you two stay and we'll go over some more security ideas."

After the meeting, Firestar flew back to her apartment. Justice had almost tried to get her to stay at the Crash Pad, but if she was going to call Stephen, she wanted to do so from the privacy of her apartment. Vance had settled for her promise of being careful.

There must be some deep psychological reason why she was willing to talk to her criminal uncle but was still unsure about writing her mother, Firestar thought absently as she flew along.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a movement on the ground. She paused in her flight. She saw two Guardsmen trying to subdue Rhino. There was a third person, a woman, unarmored, who seemed to be singing. She watched as Rhino grabbed one guardsman and threw him at the woman, who dodged out of the way just in time. It might be a trap, Firestar thought, but she wasn't about to let the guardsmen get killed. She flew down to help.

Scott Washington was able to evade several of Rhino's blows before one felled. Rhino picked him up and raised him high in the air. Scott could see MacDonald and Conrad regaining their feet, but there was no way that they could get here in time. Their weapons would be useless against Rhino's skin. Mac's power was taking time to affect the super villain as well.

Rhino stumbled backwards as a blast stuck him. He dropped Scott. Scott pushed himself off the ground and looked up. He saw Firestar move in to engage Rhino, forcing the man back. We, Scott thought, have to get a powerhouse on this team.

Rhino yanked a street light out of the ground and swung it at Firestar. The red headed mutant drove under the blow and came up and flashed her opponent. She then melted the street light. Rhino let out a string of curses as the metal heated up and turned into slag. Had he actually felt that, Scott wondered. Rhino launched himself at the mutant who quickly dove under his leap before flashing the man.

Scott slammed into the criminal and tried to force him to the ground. Rhino snorted dismissively. Changing his tactics, Scott tried to shock him. "That tickles," Rhino chuckled. He shouldered Scott off.

Rhino then barreled down to Conrad who had finally climbed to his felt. A burst from Firestar caused him to come to a screeching halt. The young mutant kept firing off bursts, her power keeping Rhino somewhat confined. Both Scott and Conrad watched as the costumed villain stop moving and wobbled. Finally he collapsed and began to snore.

Firestar stared at the loudly snoring man, a perplexed expression on her face, "How? You didn't gas him?" she asked the two guardsmen.

"My power," Mac said as she came up. She was average height with slightly dark hair, a badge hung from a chain around her neck. She kept her gun out. "I can sing people to sleep, among other things. It takes time if they're especially pig headed." She held out her hand, "I'm Moira MacDonald. Pleased to meet you. Thanks for the assist."

Firestar landed and shook the proffered hand, "You're welcome. Do you need anymore help?"

MacDonald shook her head, "Once I get them down, they'll down. Of course, perhaps Washington and Conrad need help securing him."

Sometimes, Scott thought, these helmets were a draw back. You couldn't shoot disgusted looks at people who richly deserved them. "I think we can handle it from here. Say hi to Vance for me."

With a quick good bye, Firestar flew off. "You know Washington," MacDonald said as Scott finished securing Rhino, "Maybe the boss should hire her. If we're going to be dealing with criminals like Rhino, another mutant would be helpful. Your Justice has a record. Boss doesn't want that."

"You have to be kidding," Conrad said with a frown. "She tried to free her boyfriend when we were taking him to the Vault."

"Wouldn't you after that joke of a trial?" MacDonald responded quickly. "And you don't understand. That darkness crap from months ago, all the local superheroes came out to fight it, including Firestar. The difference was, she stayed and helped the fire crew clean up afterwards. She's like us," Macdonald finished, "She's not in it for the glory."

"I don't think she'll leave the Warriors, "Scott said, thoughtfully. He would prefer Justice, but Mac had a point. "Not with her boyfriend on the team."

Mac shrugged, "Well, it can't hurt to ask. The worst she can say is no. And if she lets him control her that much, I wouldn't want her on the team anyway."

Angelica put Pumpkin on the table next to the phone. She petted the cat, then picked up the phone and dialed before she could talk herself out of it.

She waited while they went to get him.

"Hello niece," Stephen said as he got on the line. His tone bored. "I suppose you are not going to tell me how you got out of the restraint."

"No" she said shortly. That was one thing she was not going to tell him.

"I thought as much." She heard him sigh.

"I have questions, and you wanted to talk," she said. The sooner the conversation was over, the better she would feel.

"Yes, I thought as much, and it was why I made the offer. We'll do the trite game. You ask one, I'll ask one. It's very popular in the movies."

"It depends upon the question," she answered.

"Lucky for you niece, I'm bored. I've read every book in what passes for the library here, and I could teach the instructors a thing or two. Ask your question."

She debated for minute. There were two questions she wanted to ask in particular. "What did you mean when you said my mother was the killer, not you?"

"She is responsible for the death of my wife," Stephen said quietly, the usual slightly mocking tone gone from his voice. "Have you contacted your mother, yet?" he asked in the next breath.

"No," she didn't mind telling him that. "Why is she responsible?"

"She deemed the death of my wife an acceptable cost for the success of a mission."

She clenched her teeth, "That's not much of a . . ."

"Then ask a better question. How is Justice? They still talk about the boy here."

"He's fine."

"And you accuse me of less than full disclosure," her uncle replied, a bit of humor creeping into his voice.

She ignored him, for she figured out how to phrase the question. "What exactly are the circumstances surrounding your wife's death and the role of my mother in it?"

"Much better. My wife was working undercover. Your mother decided that the most cost effective way to take out the target was when my wife was in the car with him." His hand tightened on the phone. When he next spoke, there was an edge to his voice, "And you've gone back to the Warriors. And Justice, I presume. Are you sure that's you he wants and not your power?"

"Yes." Simple, quick, true. Speaking it aloud, she finally admitted it to herself.

Stephen didn't say anything for a minute. Then before she could ask another question, he spoke, "I'm weary Angelica. We will continue our conversation another day." He hung up the phone.

Trying to figure out if the conversation had gone well or not, Angelica stared out her window. It was time, she thought to write her mother. Perhaps then she could piece together the whole story. And if not, well, she had lived for years without mother or uncle.

**Next evening**

As they left the pizza parlor, James studied Vance, "You know, you look like a meerkat, peering around like that." Her hand in his, Angel looked over at Vance. He did look like a meerkat scanning the street. She gently squeezed his hand. He looked over at her and smiled.

"Just because he is gallant," Cynthia, her brown hair had dyed in streaks of green, replied. "Some men actually want to make sure the street is safe."

"Cindy," James teased, his black eyes dancing with mirth, "I'm not your type. You're not mine, either."

Cynthia smiled back at her friend, "True. But you could practice for when you met that some one."

"Who says I haven't?" James replied, but he held out his arm, "Well then, my lady can I escort you to the subway? Should any vile vandals, note the alliteration people, try to mug us, I will fend them off with my paint box." He waved good-bye to Vance and Angel. "See you tomorrow, Ang. Later Vance."

"T. T. F. N.," Cynthia called over her shoulder as she took James' arm.

Angel and Vance walked down the street. "Did you see anything?" he asked as they reached his bike.

"Just the same faces. Maybe Rage is right. It could just be a sick joke that got lucky."

He frowned, worry returning briefly to his blue eyes. "Maybe." He got on the bike. She got on behind him, her arms wrapping tightly around his waist. "Let's go for a ride," he suggested, resting his hand lightly on her thigh. "If it clears up, I'll show you what I learned in class today."

In truth, the couple didn't go for much of a drive, just Vance's favorite lookout, one of their special places. The night was cool, though that didn't matter when you were a telekinetic and your girlfriend controlled microwaves. The night was cloudily making star watching difficult if not impossible. Not that they were watching the stars, not that it had really been the plan anyway. A quiet out of the way place, no sign of anyone else. A perfect place to get lost in each other.

"You see," one watcher said to another in the warmth of a room. Their eyes were focused on the image the remote camera, cunningly placed, transmitted to the screen before them. "It is as I told you."

The second watcher nodded, hands clenching and unclenching in anger at the sight of Vance Astrovik making out with his girlfriend.

Stephen paced his cell. He ignored the constant guardsmen on the other side of his cell. They no longer concerned.

He discovered Angelica's trick to get out of the restraints. He meant to abide his time and wait. Some inmates here, even he would hesitate to set free. But now, the memories made him feel confined. He wanted out.


	3. Chapter 3

1Title: Revenge Part 3

Author: Ethiercn

Rating: T (language)

Disclaimer: I don't own them. I am not making any money or profit off of them.

Author's Note: Begins the day after Part 2.

Angelica collected her mail and made her way up to her apartment. She didn't have much. A postcard from Jupiter, an art supply catalog, an ad from the local pizza place, and one of those envelopes that suggested a plea for money, most likely from the local animal shelter. She read the postcard on the way up the stairs. Jupiter was having a wonderful time, and her Italian was getting better. Angel entered her apartment, and put the postcard with its predecessors on the fridge. Meowing, Pumpkin came over and jumped on the table. She petted him, and opened the envelope.

_I know who you are. Leave him alone, bitch._

The first flash of panic was for her father. It passed the instance she remembered that Thrash had put security on their families. She retained enough presence of mind not to crumple up the letter. How dare this person, this, bitch wasn't quite the right word, invade her life, her space.

Vance was going to flip.

"Anything?" Justice asked tensely. He stood protectively close to Firestar, who sat on the Crash Pad's couch. Sil sat nearby in a chair.

At his seat in front of the computer, Thrash shook his head. "Just like the last one. No fingerprints. We might be able to match the printer," he shrugged, "But I'm not sure what that's going to tell us."

Justice shook his head and began to pace. "There doesn't seem to be anyone. No one has been acting any different. And why now?" He started to reevaluate everyone he had contrast with from his classmates, to the support staff on campus, to the women at his local coffee shop. The only mail he got at the Vault had been letters from Angel and news clippings from Rich. "You're not going anywhere alone," he said the Firestar.

She let out a small sigh but didn't argue. Vance had refused to meet at her the Crash Pad, insisting that she wait for him at her apartment and then come in with him. He was so worried about her that he wasn't thinking of the danger to himself, she thought. "Thrash, my father, "she began.

"I already increased the security around him after you called, Angelica," Thrash interrupted. "Don't worry about him." He shifted his attention to Justice. "I also increased security around your mother. She's far more of a target. She, however, did put something in the mail the other day. Is it possible that she's doing this?"

Justice stopped his pacing. For a second, it seemed like he was about to shout at Thrash, but then his shoulders sagged. "I don't know. I haven't talked to her since the whole thing with the Upstarts." He looked away. Firestar went to him and put her arms around him. He hugged her back, resting his head on top of hers.

"I don't think it's your mother," Sil said quietly. "Though considering this team's history with mothers, it wouldn't be surprising. But it's most likely someone who saw the trial and identifies with you. Thought they had a chance then you got back with Angel." Sil ignored Thrash's glance.

"So anyone in New York," Justice replied, looking at Sil.

"Nation, actually," Thrash amended. "It got a lot of coverage."

Justice looked at Firestar. "I should have stayed at your place after I got out."

"We knew the risks. This isn't your fault," she replied, gently touching his cheek. He leaned into her touch.

"We still have the tape to go though," Thrash said after a few moments. "We'll find her, don't worry."

**Next Morning**

Angelica whisked the eggs, head cocked to one side as she listened for the sound of the water shutting off. He gaze slid to the sleeping bag where Vance had slept last night. He had tried to get her to stay at Nita's, but the Sub-Mariner was allergic to cats, and Angel valued her independence and her working space. It was difficult enough to paint with one person looking over her shoulder.

It was strange, though not in a bad way, to have him spend the night, to wake up and see him sleeping there. Like the night before Stephen had captured her; the comforting presence of his body next to hers.

And since she was completely honest with herself, she was starting to think about sex.

She couldn't help but wince a little at the memory of offering herself to Vance before he went off to the Vault. Any lesser man would have taken of advantage of her, but he hadn't it. Then when they had gotten back together, he hadn't pressured her to rejoin the Warriors. She smiled; she felt loved.

She bit her lip thoughtfully. After the last couple months, she was sure that she didn't want to wait until marriage. And she would rather have her first time be with Vance for a whole host of reason, including, most importantly, how she felt about him and the feelings he stirred in her each time he touched her.

He made her knees go all wobbly and her mind places that made her blush.

When he kissed her . . . .

But now was not the right time to broach the topic. It still was a bit too soon after everything. While she wanted him, she also wanted to make sure that it wasn't simple lust or hormones. After the stalker issue was resolved, she thought, if she still felt the same way, she would raise the topic.

The water shut off with a clunk. The plumbing in the building was not the quiet type. She could hear Vance moving around in the small bathroom. She poured the eggs into the waiting frying pan.

Vance exited the bathroom and came up behind her, "Omelets? Every time I try to make it one, it always ends up as scrambled eggs."

"It's all in how you shake the pan," she replied as she added the cheese and sausage.

Standing behind her, he slid one arm around her waist and placed his free hand on top of hers as she gripped the pan. "Like this?" he asked.

"Only if you want the eggs on the stove," she laughed, slowly down the movement slightly.

"Your Nana taught you?" He asked as she slid the omelet from the pan onto a plate.

"She was a great believer in Julia Child," she pulled the toast from the toaster. "Try the next one."

"Did you send that letter to your mother?" Vance asked as he experimented with making an omelet. If he could get it right, he could have something else besides Cup of Noodle, slightly underdone pasta, or scrambled eggs.

Angelica poured the juice, "Yes. Dad said it would take a couple weeks for a reply to make its way back."

"Is this done?" He glanced over at her for confirmation, "Can you live with the answer she'll give you?" Both of them had mixed emotions about Mrs. Jones.

"I want to know. If there's no straight answer, like with why she brought my painting," she shrugged. "It's not like I can believe what Stephen says anyway."

He sat down across from her and shoveled some of his omelet on to his toast. "You're in class for most of the morning, right? I'll drop you off and pick you up after my presentation. Then we go help Thrash and Nova looks though the rest of the tapes."

"Rich was complaining to you about that too?"

"Well, if he could always go back to school and have an excuse to get out of some of the grunt work."

Anger. What she was felt was raw, fierce anger. If the stalker stood before her now, she would turn the woman to ash without a second thought.

Her beautiful painting of the burned munitions house on the Hudson ruined.

The canvas slashed to ribbons.

Dimly, Angel was aware of her professor reaming out security, of the sympathy words and glances of her classmates. All she felt was anger. All she saw was red. She clenched and unclenched her hands so tightly that she could feel her nails digging into the flesh of her palms.

She would rather have the stalker come after her, and then she could blast the woman. To attack her work was worse, a more intimate destruction of self.

"Angel," James said. "It won't do any good to keep staring at it. Let's get you some water." He steered her out of the exhibit room.

She was so upset that she didn't hear Vance call her name, though he must have. She was only aware of throwing herself into his arms and of his body tensing when he saw the ruined painting though exhibit room window.

"You're done here in two hours?" he asked still holding her.

She nodded.

"I'll stay here until you're done, and then . . ."

"You can't," she interrupted. The anger was still there, but she was calmer and determined not to let the stalker control her every move. "You have that presentation."

He brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear, "I'll reschedule."

"I'll be fine. I'll wait here. You can pick me up afterwards."

He tightened his hold on her and shook his head, "No. After this . . ."

"I'll stay with her until you're free," James interjected causing Vance to look at him for the first time. "The class will still be here anyway. We have to clean up the mess. It was mostly likely some stupid frat joke."

Vance didn't answer. He looked at Angel. "He's right," she said. "About the others staying," she amended at his doubting look. "I won't be alone."

"You called Dwayne?"

She nodded.

"You stay with someone," he said. "I'll get you after the presentation. Then we'll meet up with Dwayne and the others." He cupped her face with his hands and kissed her. "Be careful," he whispered, kissing her lightly on the forehead.

"You too," she replied. "I'll be in the studio."

He smiled tightly, kissed her lightly on the lips, squeezed her hand, and left.

Thrash rubbed his eyes. He had been looking at the tapes for a couple hours. He glanced at the clock. Nova would be here soon to spell him.

He paused the tape. There. Wait, he knew who that was.


	4. Chapter 4

Title: Revenge Part 4

Author: Ethiercn

Rating: T (language)

Disclaimer: I don't own them, and I am not making any profit from this. MacDonald's power is taken from _The Sun Sword Series_ by Michelle West.

Author's Note: Takes place directly after Part 3. Charlotte Smith is supposed to be Charlotte Jones (Archangel's former girlfriend. They started dating when he was in X-Factor and broke up after he returned to the X-Men). I changed her last name because it would be one Jones too many, making it really hard to keep up with the Joneses (sorry, but you try not making a pun here). Perhaps Charlotte met a nice guy and got married. Their relationship is wonderful, and the only problem, if problem it is, is the Alias Smith and Jones jokes their friends make (I'll stop now).

With James' help Angelica removed her painting from the exhibit room's wall and took it to one of the studios. They leaned it against a wall. Angel knelt in front of it. Gently, she raised a strip of the canvas and sighed. It was ruined beyond all repair. Pieces of it were missing. At least, she still had the preliminary sketches. She could recreate it, make it better. Though it wouldn't be the same. It felt like a death. She sighed.

"You and Vance were apart for a while," James said softly from behind her. "Why did you get back together?"

Still studying her painting, Angel replied, "We both grew up."

The first blow landed across her shoulder and forced her to the floor. "You don't deserve him," James snarled as he raised the piece of wood for second blow. "You didn't even notice him all those times when he showed up to watch you paint." The second blow hit her head and knocked her out. His face contorted with jealousy and rage, James raised it once more, "He needs someone who will love him."

"Stop," a voice said from behind him. "Not here. Not yet."

Vance hurried up the steps to the school. His evaluation was over, but he didn't really care how it had gone. He would get Angel; they would go back to the Crash Pad, find whoever this was and put an end to it. His phone rang. "Hello," he said as he opened the door to the building.

"It's Scott," the guardsman's voice sounded tired, and instantly Vance knew this wasn't about Angel's help with Rhino. Before he could ask anything, Scott continued, "You and Firestar should know that Stephen Davies escaped."

Vance stopped and couldn't stop himself from looking around, "When?"

"An hour ago. Listen kid, some of the other inmates have escaped as well. I'll give you guys more detail later. It's too hectic right now. I just thought you guys should have a heads up."

"Thanks Scott," Vance started walking again, faster this time, almost running. A yard later, his phone rang again. Now what? What else could go wrong?

"Vance!" Thrash's voice was filled with relief. "We know who it is. We've tried reaching Angelica, but she's not picking up."

Not caring who saw, Vance flew down the hallway.

Stephen hid in the shadow of the building. He had seen Vance arrive looking upset and watched the man leave alone. According to the boy's body language something was wrong. The boy wasn't an artist. He had to have been trying to find Angelica. Stephen frowned. If Samantha had control of Angelica things would be difficult. His time in the Vault had made him think about his power. Perhaps, if his niece was nearby he could track her by tracking the microwaves. He didn't have much time; he would have to leave the city soon. But he should have a few hours.

Angelica woke to pain. Her head pounded, she felt dizzy and sick to her to stomach. She couldn't move her left arm, it hurt so much.

"She's awake," a voice said. James' voice.

"Hello Angelica," someone else said.

She knew that voice. Empath.

"You took Amara from me," Empath said he as slide the piece of framing wood under Angel's chin and raised her head forcing her to look at him. His handsome face was disfigured by hate. "I tried but no matter what I did, she refused to take me back."

Angel didn't say anything. She hurt too much. James stood nearby. His eyes had that familiar glassy look. She could feel the cold ground and make out the dim shapes of trees. She reached back with her good arm for the beacon.

"Looking for this?" Empath asked scornfully holding up the small device. "Not yours anymore, I'm afraid." He paused. Was he waiting for her to beg, Angel thought, trying to force her mind to think. She shifted slightly to hide her left hand; her head hurt too much raise the power to fly, but perhaps a constant low pulse would be enough to disrupt Empath's control of James.

"She couldn't even bear to look at me," Empath shouted, removing the piece of wood from underneath her chin. She let her head slump down; hopefully, she would be able to keep the pulse hidden. "I wanted to take something from you. Your boyfriend, Justice," Empath sneered. "But things didn't work quite like I planned. You left Justice for a while." He looked over at the James. "So passionate. So jealous of your ability and your relationship with Justice. My mistake was not realizing he was gay. I had to adjust my plans, improved them you could say."

"Don't become what Frost wanted you to be," Angel replied. She just needed a few minutes more. Raising her head, she could see that James' looked less like a zombie.

Empath snorted, raised the wood and brought it down on her injured shoulder. She screamed as her vision turned red for a moment. "Hardly, Angelica." He grabbed her hair and gave her head a yank to prove his point. "Nova Roma was the only time in my life that I was happy. You took that from me!"

"It wasn't yours to lose," she countered, trying to hold on to consciousness for just a bit longer. Empath still had the beacon. Her eyes slid back to James. He looked confused as if he were trying to figure out what was happening. With James free, she could stun Empath and get the beacon.

Empath glared at her, "I wanted you to watch as I destroyed your loved ones, but I'll settle for having you die knowing that I will destroy them by having them destroy each other. Your father, your friends, your Justice."

She wished he would shut up; he didn't sound as grand as he thought.

He shoved her head down to the ground and moved to where James stood. He passed the artist the wood. "She doesn't love him. Kill her now."

James took the bat, but his eyes weren't glassy anymore. He nodded slightly at Angel and swung around, pointing the bat at Empath. Empath cursed and moved to take the bat. Angel pushed herself up and began to crawl forward. She needed James to move so she could get off a clear shot.

"What are you," James began.

He never finished. The intense blast from above came so suddenly that the two men didn't even have time to scream. One second they were alive; the next, nothing but ash and charred bone.

"NO!" she screamed. Despite the pain in her head, she pushed herself on to her knees. Ignoring the sense of vertigo, she flicked on her power.

"Please child, don't embarrass yourself," Stephen said as he landed, sounding uncannily like Frost. "No matter how much I would enjoy a rematch, you are in no condition to fight." He stepped over the remains and reached for her. "I'm in the mood to be nice today. I'll even take to the hospital."

"You didn't have to," she shouted as she tried to stand. She fell as she moved away from him.

"Kill them," he finished as he caught her, picked her up, and took to the air. "I told you. We are either pawns or gods. It is better to kill those who would do kill us." He said something more, but she could not make out the words as she slipped into unconscious again.

"Can we back trace the beacon?" Justice asked Trash.

"Not if it's turned off," Thrash replied as he punched some more computer keys.

"Do you know any place where James could have taken her?" Nova asked, every so often his gaze going to the skylight to see if the others had arrived yet.

Justice shook his head. "I don't know him all that well. He's was just a friend of Angel's. Nice, amusing, that's about it. The others said that they had gone to get some food." He stared at the image of Empath on the computer screen. "And it's not like it would be James' anywhere, not if he's under Empath's control."

"She can take care of herself," Nova replied, trying to sound comforting. "She took out Stephen, and she dealt with Empath before."

Thrash ignored him, and Justice shot him a look.

"It would have to be somewhere out of the way," Thrash mused as he called up a map on the screen.

Bowing his head, Justice nodded in agreement. He shouldn't have left her, he thought. They should have come right here. To take her, James must have knocked her out, and Justice doubted that Empath would allow her to regain consciousness. She was far too dangerous. She could be dead already. If she was . . .

He looked over Thrash's head at the map. "He would want some cover."

Thrash's hands moved across the keyboard, and a couple highlighted places winked out.

Justice's phone rang. "Angel?" he asked as he raised the phone to his ear without even looking at the number.

"Vance, its Scott. Firestar's at Mercy General."

Justice took a breath, "She okay?" Thrash and Nova stopped talking and waited.

"She's unconscious. Has a concussion and busted shoulder. Stephen, of all people, brought her in. He had the staff call us before he left." Scott paused and said something to someone else. "Vance, there's some woman here claiming to be her mother, so the sooner you get here the better."

Stephen watched as Justice entered Mercy General. The boy really should lose the cape, the man thought. He frowned; it seemed his niece was correct about this Justice.

For some reason that fact made him sad and wistful.

He had done his yearly good deed. It was time to leave.

When the elevator doors opened, Justice could see Scott and his people blocking Mrs. Jones and her people. He caught the words, "stupid bitch" from the woman who stood behind Scott.

"Mac," the guardsman said though the reprimand lacked any real force.

"You were thinking it," Mac muttered.

"Where is she?" Justice asked as he came up. Thrash and Nova were going to wait for the others and then going to try to track down Empath. As much as Justice wanted to get into the room and see Angel, from the way Scott sounded on the phone, he knew he would have to deal with this first.

"In the room," Scott replied. "This woman is trying to take her."

"That's not it exactly," Mrs. Jones responded with a great deal of force and nodding a quick hello to Vance. "If Stephen tracked Angel, then she can track him." She turned back to Scott, "Surely you guardsmen want that as much as we do."

"Mac," Scott warned as the woman behind him took a breath. "Yes, we do," he continued. "But I disagree with your methods."

Disliking how easily Mrs. Jones dropped her daughter's name, Justice narrowed his eyes and asked Scott, "Firestar is still unconscious?"

Scott nodded at the same time Mrs. Jones said, "All I want to do is use her to track him. That's it."

"Yeah, cause you did such a good job catching him before," Mac spat. This time Scott let it go.

"My authority supersedes yours," Mrs. Jones said shooting the other woman an angry look. "What you want is of no concern." She gestured to the men behind her. They moved forward.

And were stopped by a telekinetic shield.

Mrs. Jones sighed and looked at Justice, "You of all people must surely understand."

"No," Justice interrupted coldly, "I don't."

"Stephen. . . "

"Is long gone by now," he finished trying to keep his temper under control. "You daughter has a concussion and hasn't regained consciousness, not that you seem to care." Mrs. Jones looked like he had slapped her, but he didn't care. "She's not going anywhere until the doctor says she can," Justice finished.

"I told you. ... "

"I heard you the first time," he interrupted, still keeping the shield up. "You're not taking her."

Mrs. Jones glared at him. "If my authority supersedes the guardsmen," she began.

"But it doesn't supersede mine," another voice said. "Firestar stays."

The speaker was an older African-American woman with a badge clipped onto her belt. Her body language spoke cop. Behind him, Justice felt the guardsman relax a little. "It's okay," Scott said.

"You must be Justice," the woman said coming to stand near the guardsmen. "I'm Lieutenant Smith, pleased to meet you."

"Charlotte," Mrs. Jones began in a reasonable tone of voice.

"Don't start Samantha," Lieutenant Smith interrupted smoothly. "You'll lose. This is a local matter. My jurisdiction. Not even the Avengers could take the case from me. You can stay if you wish. But you have no authority."

Mrs. Jones looked like she was about to argue and then thought better about it. With one last venomous glance, Justice could see the resemblance to Stephen, she and her people left. Justice dropped the shield and moved to the recovery room's door. Finally.

"What a mother," he heard Conrad say. "Doesn't she care about her own daughter?"

"Yes, but she fears Stephen more," Mac replied, "I can hear it in her voice every time she says his name."


	5. Chapter 5

1Title: Revenge Part 5

Author: Ethiercn

Rating: T

Disclaimer: I don't own the guardsmen, Firestar, Justice, any New Warrior or even Charlotte Smith. Mac's mutant power comes from _The Sun Sword Series_ by Michelle West.

Author's note: The first part of this takes place right after Part 4. If anyone has a good team name, please let me know. Smith's team needs one. Also let me know if Angel's decision is out of character. If too many people think it is, I'll change the ending.

Aware that someone was holding her hand, Angel squeezed back and opened her eyes. "She's awake," Vance said to someone, his voice filled with relief. "Hey," he continued softly, "how are you feeling?" He smiled at her.

Her arm still hurt, though now it was in a sling, and her head hurt less. Angel licked her lips, "Okay." Vance sat on the side of her bed. Mac and another woman she didn't know sat in nearby chairs. "Where?"

"Mercy General. Stephen brought you," Vance replied, study her. His eyes had a slightly worried yet relieved look to them.

"Do you remember what happened?" This from the African-American woman, who quickly added, "My apologies for being abrupt. I'm Lieutenant Charlotte Jones."

"The boss," Mac added with a wink at Angel.

She began to nod and then thought better of it. "It was James, but it wasn't. Empath was controlling him."

"We know," Vance said. "Thrash finally found the tape showing him."

"Who is this Empath?" Lt. Jones asked as Mac flipped open her pad and began writing.

"He went to the same school as me. He's a mutant," Angel responded.

"Controls emotions," Vance added, glancing at the two women before looking back at Angel. "The others are looking for him. Do you remember where they took you?"

"They won't find him," Angel said as she tightened her grip on Vance's hand. "I broke his control over James, but then ," she could feel the tears well up in her eyes. She looked at Vance. Of all the Warriors, he would understand the most. "Stephen killed them. Both of them. James hadn't done anything; it wasn't his fault. He was my friend! Empath was what Frost made him," Her voice was filled with anger and sadness. "Stephen didn't even give them a chance. He burned them; there was only . ... " but she couldn't finish. Quickly, Vance moved so he could pull her into his arms. He held her gently but securely, with one hand still clasping hers.

Lt. Smith exchanged a glance with Mac who nodded. "Do you remember where they took you? Forgive me, but we should find the remains."

"For James parents," Angel finished from the protective circle of Vance's arms. "I don't know where it was." She took a shaky breath. "I remember what it looks like. I could draw it for you."

"You're that good?" Mac asked as she tore off a few pieces of paper and took out another pen.

"She is," Vance confirmed, moving the hospital table and pulling the paper and pen from Mac's hand telekinetically.

Angel let go off Vance's hand and began to sketch.

"Firestar," Lt. Smith said after a few moments. "I know this is not the best time, but I would like to offer you a job."

Angel looked up from her sketch and looked skeptically at the other woman, "As a guardsman?" She exchanged a look with Vance.

Mac snorted before her boss could say anything, "Do I look like an Iron Man wanna be?"

The comment even drew a smile from Vance.

Lt. Smith smiled indulgently, "Mac's actually a very good detective, though she doesn't come across that way. And her prattle has its uses."

"I do not prattle," Mac grumbled.

"The guardsmen who work with us, Mr. Washington and Mr. Conrad are part of my team. We are a version of X-Factor. We could use someone like you. Don't answer now. Think about it. We'll talk later," Smith continued. She waited until Angel had completed the rough sketch. "Thank you," Smith said as she took it. "We'll let you know when we find anything. We can coordinate with your team. Get some rest."

Mac nodded a quick good bye as she took back her pen, and the two women left.

Vance moved the table away and shifted his position slightly. His hand found hers again. "Can we make a deal?" he said quietly, "That next nut case comes after me?"

She nodded.

"What are you thinking?"

"That I should have done something more in Nova Roma," she responded sadly. "If I had James would still be alive."

"And what could you have done? Taken Empath to the authorities? They would have simply laughed at you. And we saw him after the Upstarts; he acted normally. This isn't your fault Angelica, no matter what you feel. Stephen killed them, not you." He gently brushed her hair back from her face and then rubbed her back.

Angel didn't say anything. Part of her knew he was right, part of her raged at the injustice that had been done to James.

**Three Days Later**

Her arm still in a sling, Angel waited with Vance for the nurse so she could leave the hospital. The doctors had kept her in for a few days due to her concussion. Vance had spent much of the three days at the hospital as well, leaving only to get her a few things from her apartment or when the doctors and nurses kicked him out for a couple hours. When he returned, he always brought flowers. He had the strangest expression on his face today though.

"Vance," she asked sitting on the bed, "Is anything wrong?"

"No." He took a quick look out the door for the nurse. Why the staff thought Angel needed a wheelchair to leave was beyond him. If they didn't want her to fly out, fine, but he could lift her telekinetically. He returned to stand in front of her. "I was going to tell you after we left, but since the nurse seems to be making a wheelchair, I might as well tell you now." He took a breath and looked at her, "The Avengers offered me a slot on their reserve team.""That's wonderful!" she practically shouted as she hugged him. "I'm so proud and happy for you."

Laughing, he hugged her back, lifting her off the bed before realizing that he was doing so. Still worried about her concussion and arm, he put her back down gently and kissed her. "Looks like we're both leaving the Warriors at the same time."

"We're not leaving Thrash in a lurch, though. Not with Turbo and Dagger stepping in," Angel replied; she had worried about that when she made her choice.

"You sure about working for Lt. Smith?"

She nodded. "I was concerned that it would be something that would require mutants to register, but after what Mac said,"

"Wasn't the politest word in that diatribe unconstitutional?" Vance asked taking a seat on the bed.

Angel nodded, "And the line about taking a case to the Supreme Court." She smiled, but it quickly turned to a slight frown, "After what Stephen did, after Frost. I think so few people could understand what's it like. Once he met Frost, did Empath have much of a choice?" she finished.

"You did," he replied, kissing her lightly on the cheek, his hand lightly brushing against her skin.

"I had Randall," she countered. "Smith is right. If mutants are citizens then they shouldn't get an automatic pass, like Frost did by joining the X-Men, simply because of their power, right?"

He nodded.

"And if Empath had been..." she started again.

"We had that conversation," he interrupted. "Even Smith and her people agree. That wasn't your fault." He reached out and cupped her chin, raising her face to look in her eyes. "If you're joining because of misplaced guilt, than it is the wrong decision. Your choice should be made for the right reasons. Not for me, not for the Warriors, not for them. But for you."

"It's not guilt, not exactly, more of a sense to the right the wrong. Does that make sense? I'm explaining it badly," she sighed, her blue green eyes slightly troubled. They had talked about this over the past couple nights, but she still felt slightly guiltily about her decision.

"I understand," he replied. "I do. I felt the same way in the Vault," he stroked her cheek with his thumb. He loved the feel of her skin and sometimes his thoughts, his dreams, . .. "At least, the Avengers sometimes work with Smith," he said after moment.

There was a knock on the door. "Finally," they both said together.

**A month later**

Sitting at Angel's kitchen table, Vance looked up from his text book and studied Angel. Her head was bent over her art history book, and her long, vibrantly red hair slightly obscured her face. She absentmindedly tapped the pencil against the table. She was still on disabled list as far as Smith was concerned, but had joined the team for some practices. In a couple weeks, she would be an active member. So far, she said, she liked working with them. She said that Mac and Scott kept asking her questions about her power, making her think about it in new ways.

Vance's gaze shifted to the letter on the fridge. Samantha's reply to Angel's letter had arrived last week. Angel had yet to open it. Sometimes he thought that he shouldn't have told her about his confrontation with her mother, but then he felt Angel had the right to know. He looked down at his notes and then back at Angel. They both had time after finals. It was time to ask. He doubted that she would say no.

"Angel," he said. She looked up from her text book, her eyes meeting his. "After finals, how about if we go away for a long weekend, just the two of us?"

She smiled at him, "That sounds like a wonderful idea." Angel looked down at her textbook for minute. After her stay at Mercy General, and after a long conversation with the doctor about birth control, she had finally determined what lay in her mind. If Vance wanted to go away for a weekend, then it was time to broach the topic. "Vance," she asked quietly, putting aside her book, "I was thinking we should re-evaluate our decision about sex."


End file.
